


Betting Game

by sassyericawithaflowercrown



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Basketball Shorts, Established Relationship, M/M, Timeline sort of after now, Tumblr Prompts, derpy boyfriends, like a decent amount of time later since things are calm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassyericawithaflowercrown/pseuds/sassyericawithaflowercrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles shows some interest in basketball. Or Derek in basketball shorts. But he still asks for Derek for some help with the sport-- which he may not even need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Betting Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jesserfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesserfly/gifts).



> So this was actually a prompt request I wrote at one am for my friend on tumblr. It's not beta'd or anything since it was done real quick. I honestly have no idea how to play basketball. So this is what you get. There is basketball and bets involved. Along with impossible shots no one could make like how the fuck did that happen?  
> I am working on some longer fics for here but this is the first thing I've finished in a while soooo. Tada

It was becoming sort of habit for Stiles to just show up at Derek’s loft. 

It sort of happened with pack things, fighting for their lives, random supernatural beings trying to kill them. You know it was kind of the go to place when he had some information to share.

But even as things died down, Stiles was still sort of a constant.

And with  _a totally not cocky at all_  smile he noted that it was because he was welcome in Derek’s home. That was kind of a perk of dating.

He took a couple of steps at a time, trying not to fawn like a school girl over the fact he was with  _with_ all that leathery broody alpha without being slaughtered. Or having his throat ripped out with said alpha’s teeth. Although there was definite teeth to neck contact sometimes. And Stiles did enjoy that.

When he made it to the top of the stairs he knocked on the door, shifting from foot to foot as he waited for Derek to let him in. Maybe he would jump into his arms like some clichéd chick flick. You know, just to change things up.

They totally weren’t chick flick-y on a normal basis. Nope. Not at all.

But there was no answer from the other side. Stiles frowned and pulled his phone from his pocket, checking again that Derek had okayed him coming over.

Yup. The text was there. A simple “Okay” letting him know he was clear for takeoff. Or show up.

But no Derek?

Stiles sighed, shrugging lightly and turning on his heel. Maybe Scott wasn’t out with Allison and could use some bro time. If he wasn’t getting boyfriend time, then bro time was the next best thing.

Correction.

Next best thing was standing a few steps below him in a wife beater and loose shorts, a basketball tucked under his arm. He blinked up before arching an eyebrow.

“Stiles,”

Apparently he was staring. And okay, Stiles was allowed to stare. It was his boyfriend. His boyfriend not in tight jeans and a leather jacket like normal. In actual …like workout clothes? Was there some supernatural shit going down he’d missed out on?

His attention snapped back as the basketball hit his chest—lightly, thank god—and he fumbled to catch it. Derek was already up the steps, taking his keys from his pocket and unlocking the door, throwing it open for Stiles.

He blinked at the basketball, then at Derek, and then back at the ball.

“You play?”

Derek sighed, though not the normal annoyed or frustrated sigh he was used to. It was endearing… but still a little condescending. Stiles returned it with a frown.

“I knew you played. I didn’t know it was still happening,” Stile huffed, tossing the ball over his shoulder as he walked inside the loft. Derek caught it _—ahah fuck you too, werewolf reflexes_ —and followed him inside, shutting the door with a shrug.

“Sometimes. It’s a good way to relieve stress. Get rid of energy.”

When Stiles turned around he was even doing that douchebag finger spinning thing.

“Well, Derek I can tell you there are other ways to do that as well,” Alright they were both smiling now. Boyfriend advantage at its finest.

-x-

Still Stiles was interested in the whole ‘basketball’ thing. Okay it wasn’t really a “thing”. Back when Derek was in high school basketball had been the sport—like lacrosse now—and Derek had been good. Stiles were decent at lacrosse. Better at track (hey, running for your life was a nice way to train. Or vice versa). But he’d never tried basketball.

And missing his fourth shot in a row? He knew why.

Throwing his arms up in the air as the ball bounced feebly on the court, Stiles dropped to the pavement, flannel shirt fanning around him like a cape as he lay out and closed his eyes.

From edge of the court Derek attempted to hide his laugh, walking forward and retrieving the basketball as it rolled away. He stopped by where Stiles was flat on the ground and made the shot, the soft stereotypical  _swish_ of net letting Stiles know he had definitely made it no problem.

When he looked up again, Derek was hovering over him, hand extended towards him. He tried to glare up at him. He really tried. But that smile, the small show of blunt human teeth over his lip? It was impossible to glare at.

Instead he clapped his hands in the slightly larger one and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

“Alright, alright,” Stiles huffed, brushing imaginary dirt of his pants and crossing his arms across his chest. “Teach me your ways,  _oh great alpha_.”

“Not if you’re going to be a brat about it.” Derek shot back, releasing Stiles’ hand to go and retrieve the basketball once more.

“Oh come on,”

When Derek returned to his side he held out the ball for Stiles, who snatched it back.

“Don’t come on me. I told you how to stand and shoot.” Derek pointed out. He had spent at least fifteen minutes going over the basics with Stiles, who had appreciated the view but not taken in a single word. “Just do what I told you.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I bet you I could make this shot without even looking or doing what you quote unquote taught me.” His challenge was accompanied by a sly smile and Derek’s eyebrows shot up. A moment later he was smirking.

“A bet? For something stupid and impossible like that?”

“Yes.” Stiles stuck his tongue out before continuing. “If it’s so impossible then bet me, loser. What could you lose?”

“Lose? How about what would I win?” Derek took a step closer, snaking an arm around Stiles’ hip, the smile still on his lips. Stiles stepped back, waving a finger at him before speaking again.

“If you win—lets saaaaay” He drew out the word before turning on his heel with a shrug. “a whole twenty four hours of whatever the winner wants. No questions. Nothing. Just” Stiles looked over his shoulder, quirking an eyebrow again. “Anything.”

Derek licked his lips and nodded.

“Alright. Bets on.”

Derek held his hand to seal the agreement, Stiles still facing him as he tossed the ball over his shoulder, grabbing Derek’s hand and shaking it lightly before

_Swish._

Derek gaped at him, his hand going slack in Stiles.

Closing the space between them he kissed the tip of Derek’s nose, still holding his hand tightly.

“Never bet on anything you can’t win, Derek.” He chimed, leading him away back towards the parking lot and leaving the ball behind. “Never.”


End file.
